


but tonight i need you to stay

by firefall



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: And Nick Is Very Jealous Of Pig's Affections, Boys Kissing, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Louis Eats A Lot Of Cereal, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefall/pseuds/firefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“We could always fall in love,” Louis mumbles timidly, picking at his pajama pants.  He squeezes his eyes shut as soon as the words leave his mouth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah,” Nick answers quietly, which is not at all what Louis expected.  He opens his eyes again, stunned.  Nick just smiles ruefully and offers him a shrug.  “I don’t think there’s much else we can do.”</i>
</p><p>Louis and Nick were enemies long before they were soulmates. It takes a little time to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but tonight i need you to stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madilou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madilou/gifts).



> Written for madilou who wanted a Tomlinshaw Soulmate AU where Louis and Nick can't stand each other, but manage to figure things out anyway. :)
> 
> This is set during a handwavey, possibly not real time period during the current OTRA tour break. All you have to know is that 1D is down to four members and the Breakfast Crew still has Matt and Ian.
> 
> Warnings for: some swearing, mild alcohol use, one instance of vomiting, and a scene where a person kisses someone without permission.
> 
> Title is from "The Run And Go" by twenty one pilots which you should all listen to RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY because it's the perfect Tomlinshaw song.
> 
> Many thanks to H for letting me cry and whine over this fic until it was finally finished...you're the best!! I couldn't have done this without your encouragement. LOVE YOU! And also thank you thank you thank you to the mods for hosting this fic exchange and being super lovely and nice :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anyone portrayed in this fic and am not making any judgments about their characters or personal lives. If you are the real Louis Tomlinson please hit that back button at this time. Thank you.

The best thing about parties at Harry’s is that Louis has free reign of the entire house.  Once he gets tired of socializing he can crash in one of the spare bedrooms or lay face-down in the middle of the kitchen floor and no one’s allowed to step on him.  Tonight he’s opted to stretch out across the big, squishy sofa in the lounge, his legs kicked out straight and his arm thrown over his eyes.

 

It’s not long before the loud, pumping music starts to lull him into a drunken slumber, so he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels someone grab ahold of his legs and slide beneath them to sit on the end of the couch.  “Ugh, _Liam_ ,” he grouses, because there’s no one else it could possibly be.  He kicks his feet a little, annoyed at being disturbed.  “Just leave me here to die.”

 

“No need to be so dramatic, love.”

 

The voice is high and sweet and decidedly _not_ Liam’s.  Letting out a yelp of surprise, Louis springs to a sitting position, his eyes wide.  Even as drunk as he is, Louis is taken aback to find Daisy Lowe sitting on the last sofa cushion with his feet in her lap.  There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, but the only thing he manages to get out is a garbled “what?” that gets lost in the noise of the party.

 

Daisy’s looking at him strangely – as if _she’s_ not the one that initiated this…whatever it is – and Louis can feel his face start to heat up.  He’s contemplating the best way to remove himself from the situation when she finally speaks, her brow knit together quizzically.  “Is this your marking?” she asks, lightly tapping him on the ankle where it’s resting in her lap.  “The little triangle?”

 

Normally Louis would bristle at being asked something so personal by someone he’s never spoken to before, but he’s drunk and Daisy’s beautiful and he can’t find it in him to care.  “Yeah,” he answers honestly, lifting his leg until his ankle is right in her eye line.  “Kind of an unfortunate place, innit?  Not too many people walking around looking for their soulmate’s feet.”

 

Daisy looks like she wants to answer, but she dissolves into giggles instead.  Feeling attacked, Louis goes rigid and pulls his legs away from her, tucking his knees up against his chest.  “It’s not funny,” he snaps, setting his jaw defiantly.  “We aren’t all lucky enough to have it on our fucking _hand_!”

 

Her intricate geometric marking flashes in the light as she waves him away.  “It’s not that, darling!” she reassures him between giggles.  “It’s just…what are the odds?”  She wipes tears from her eyes.  “He’s going to absolutely _flip_ when he finds out!”

 

Beginning to feel sick to his stomach, Louis’ voice goes a bit thin when he cries, “Who?  Who’s gonna flip?”

 

“Grimmy!” she gasps out and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over Louis’ head.  All of a sudden he’s sober and nauseous and so furious he can hardly see straight.

 

Too bothered to remember his manners, Louis leaves Daisy on the sofa without a word and marches to the kitchen where he’d noticed – though he’d tried valiantly not to – Nick disappear only a couple minutes ago.  Nick’s standing in front of the open refrigerator digging around for another pint, his left arm propped against the freezer to hold himself up.  Louis’ heart drops to his stomach when he sees a small black triangle hiding on the inside of his elbow.  It’s an exact match.

 

“Grimshaw!” he shouts from the doorway, his voice sharp to hide the way his hands have started to shake at his sides.  He curls them into tight fists.  “Are you trying to fuck with me?”

 

The room goes nearly silent as everyone turns to stare at Louis.  Nick, for his part, just looks confused.  “What did I do this time, Tomlinson?” he asks, keeping his voice even and approaching Louis slowly as if he’s trying to calm a wild animal. 

 

It irks Louis, makes him feel stupid, and he snarls out, “You tattooed it on, didn’t you?  You saw my marking and decided you wanted to fuck with me so you tattooed it on!”  He knows it’s ridiculous, but it’s the best he can do under the circumstances.  He’s a lot less sober than he originally thought and he really, _really_ doesn’t want to be soulmates with Nick Grimshaw.

 

For a split second Nick’s eyes go wide, but his shock is soon replaced by a mocking sneer.  “Oh sweetheart,” he says, his voice aggravatingly sweet and unaffected.  Louis has to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from screaming angry nonsense at the top of his lungs.  “Do you think for a second I care enough about you to try to actively mess with your head?”

 

“Then why do they match?” Louis cries desperately, stomping his foot as if he can shake the marking off his skin and onto the floor.  It doesn’t work.

 

Nick just shrugs, smiling with amusement.  “I guess it means we’re soulmates,” he answers, way too casually for Louis’ liking.  Then he grabs Louis by the shoulders, pulling him in close and grinning wickedly.  “Better give us a kiss then, eh?”

 

Before Louis can even process the question, Nick’s lips are on his and drunken laughter rings out from every corner of the kitchen, burning at his skin.  “Fuck _off_!” he chokes out, wrenching away and wiping at his lips in a blind panic.  He clambers backwards towards the door, feeling cornered.  “Don’t touch me!”

 

He wants to say more, but his stomach suddenly lurches, sending Louis scrambling down the hallway to be sick in the toilet.  Once he’s flushed and rinsed his mouth out, he sinks to the bathroom floor and buries his face in his knees.  “ _Shit_ ,” he whispers to himself, feeling strangely close to tears.  “Worst party ever.”

 

Louis stays in the bathroom until Harry’s house is quiet and dark.

 

_-_-_-_

 

 The thing is, Nick and Louis used to get along.  They were never close to each other like they were to Harry, but they ran in the same circles and exchanged friendly greetings whenever their paths happened to cross.  Nick had been a surprisingly good sport when Louis threw the tea at him all those years ago and even sent him a box of the same stuff in the mail on his twenty-first birthday as a joke.  Louis had drunk it all, even though he hated the brand.

 

But somewhere along the line things changed and Louis isn’t even sure why.  It was like someone flipped a switch and suddenly Nick wanted nothing to do with him, ignoring him at parties and making snide little remarks on radio that made Louis fume silently in his bunk where he was pretending not to listen to the show.  The last time they talked, Nick had called him a “spoiled brat” and Louis had vowed to never waste time on him again.  He had a strict policy against caring about people who clearly didn’t give a fuck about him.

 

And now they’re _soulmates_.

 

The thought almost makes Louis throw up again, but he takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down.  He nearly drowns himself in the sink, throwing handful after handful of cold water on his face before he feels ready to leave the toilet.  Luckily, the hallway is black when he opens the door and the only sound is a chorus of snores coming from the extra bedrooms.  Hoping Harry won’t be too disappointed in the morning, Louis sneaks to the darkened lounge where he grabs his sweatshirt and keys.  He can’t stay here tonight.  He needs to sleep in his own bed and forget any of this ever happened.

 

Even as he thinks it, Louis knows it’s impossible.  He’s not likely to forget the humiliation of Nick kissing him for as long as he lives.  But that doesn’t mean he can’t try.

 

_-_-_-_

 

It starts out as barely an itch.  Louis doesn’t notice it at first, because he wakes up past noon with a splitting headache that sends him scrambling for the medicine cabinet, moaning to himself.  But once he’s sat at the table with a plate of toast and a cup of tea in front of him, he feels a thrumming beneath his skin that makes him rub his ankle against the back of his leg to ease it.

 

By the time he’s done with breakfast, the itch has become more noticeable, nagging at him almost constantly.  He rolls his eyes in annoyance when he has to bend down for the millionth time to scratch at his ankle, rubbing at the skin until it’s pink but never really alleviating the pain.  It’s not lost on him that the itch seems to be coming directly from his marking – it’s as if Nick’s vowed to be not only a pain in his ass, but also a pain in his ankle.

 

“Figures,” Louis mutters to himself, stopping in the middle of his trip to the fridge to press the gallon of milk against the irritated skin.  The coolness soothes him for a couple seconds, but as soon as he straightens back up, the pain comes flooding back.

 

Feeling unsure and very much alone in his empty flat, Louis tries to swallow down his panic and concentrate on anything but his discomfort.  He takes a shower – washing his marking does nothing but make it sting, as it turns out – and settles down in front of the TV, tucking his hurt ankle into his lap where he can blow cool air on it as need be.  He only gets halfway through a _CBB_ rerun before the pain is just too much to take.  His entire right leg feels like it’s on fire.

 

More scared than he’d like to admit, Louis calls the first person he can think of.  Liam answers on the second ring.

 

“Please come over!” Louis begs before Liam can even finish saying hello.  He tries to keep his voice from shaking, but it’s _Liam_ and Louis has never been that great at hiding from him.  “Just…I’ll explain when you get here.  Please hurry!”

 

Liam doesn’t even hesitate.  “I’ll be there in fifteen,” he promises, his voice calm and low and reassuring.  Louis feels a tiny bit better in spite of himself.  “Hang in there, Lou.”

 

Louis isn’t sure if pacing back and forth trying not to whimper counts as “hanging in there,” but he does his best, hobbling around and chewing on his lip anxiously.  By the time he hears a key in the lock, he’s curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the carpet, one hand clutching at his ankle and the other clenched around his phone.  He knows it makes a very sad picture.

 

Liam must agree because he gasps and immediately runs to Louis’ side.  “Are you okay?” he exclaims, panic lacing his voice.  Nervous hands dance over Louis’ body, flitting from his shoulders to his waist and then back up to smooth over his hair as Liam tries to figure out if anything’s broken.  “I grabbed the boys and came as fast as I could!”

 

That makes Louis crack an eye open, Niall and Harry coming into focus after a few bleary seconds.  At any other time, he would be embarrassed to be seen in such a state by his boys, but the wave of white-hot pain that shoots up from his ankle makes him nothing but grateful to have them around.  “Hey lads,” he rasps out in a feeble attempt at a greeting, his face still smashed into the carpet.  “Welcome to the party.”

 

Neither of them laugh, their brows furrowed with worry.  At Liam’s command, Harry helps Louis to his feet, practically carrying him to the couch while Niall scampers off to get him a glass of water.  Louis is way beyond water at this point, but he appreciates the gesture and drinks it down as best he can.  It’s only when he’s settled on the sofa – half on the throw pillow and half in Harry’s lap – that any of them finally speak up.

 

“Do we need to call an ambulance?”  Niall’s face is drawn and serious when he says it, his fingers in a vice-like grip around Louis’ wrist as though he’s trying to hold him together.  “Is it that bad?”

 

“No, no, no…I’m fine!” Louis cries desperately, giving Niall a pat on the knee that he hopes is reassuring.  It tastes like a lie in his mouth, but it’s better than admitting he’s about three seconds away from crying.  “Please don’t!”

 

Liam makes a face, clearly wanting to argue, but Harry beats him to the punch by sliding his arms around Louis’ waist, hugging him from behind.  “It’s your marking, isn’t it?” he asks carefully because even after all these years Harry still gets him instinctively.  It makes Louis want to weep…but that could also be the distressing heat in his ankle talking.

 

“Yeah,” he admits, barely a breath.  “It’s been like this since I woke up this morning.”

 

Niall looks up in surprise, the wheels visibly turning in his head.  “Wait, I’ve heard about this!” he exclaims, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a flourish.  He starts tapping at it furiously from where he’s perched next to Louis’ poor, injured legs.  “Sometimes it happens when you finally meet your soulmate.”  Then he makes a little _aha!_ sound, having found what he was looking for.  Reading off the screen, he informs them, “Being apart from your soulmate – both in proximity and in emotion – may cause discomfort.  Most people complain of mild irritation on or around their marking, but in extreme cases, the pain may grow to be debilitating.”

 

Foggy images from the night before swim in Louis’ head and he blinks hard against them, feeling sick at the memory of Nick kissing him.  He feels even sicker when he realizes his ankle is going to keep feeling worse and worse until they’re finally together.  But he can’t think about that right now…he just _can’t_.  “That’s so dramatic,” he says instead, trying to lighten the mood.  “That’s some romcom shit.”

 

“Yeah, as opposed to you collapsing in the middle of the floor feeling like your foot’s gonna fall off, which isn’t dramatic at all,” Niall deadpans, rolling his eyes.  It’s a good point, but Louis ignores it in favor of moaning quietly and grabbing at his marking, his face screwed up in pain.  It probably does nothing to help his case.

 

“It says here the only cure is to _join with your soulmate_ …whatever that means,” Liam tells them, taking over for Niall.  “But for the time being, ice is supposed to make it bearable.”

 

“So get me some ice then,” Louis grumbles, sick to death of hearing about soulmates and miracle cures and markings.  He’s about ready to cut the thing out of his own leg, Nick Grimshaw be damned.  “Because there’s no way in fuck I’m doing the other thing.”

 

It’s a testament to how incredible his boys are that they run off to get him an icepack without prying.  He knows they must be curious, but Harry just helps him settle into a more comfortable position on his lap while Niall plays nurse, holding the bag of ice to Louis’ ankle.  Liam oversees it all, adding a “you’re gonna be okay, Tommo” wherever necessary.  For the first time all day, Louis thinks he might be right.

 

_-_-_-_

 

The boys stay until late that night, passing Louis from lap to lap and swapping out his icepack when it gets too melted.  He finally convinces them to go home at around one in the morning, promising that he’ll call if the pain gets too bad again.  Each of them drop a kiss to the top of his head before they leave, making him feel warm all the way down to his toes.  He may be on the edge of death, but there’s no question that Louis is one of the luckiest people in the world.

 

The warmth doesn’t stay long, however, because Louis wakes up the next morning in tears.  The pain seems to have doubled overnight, traveling from his ankle all the way up into his throat.  Gasping for air, Louis has to press his face into his pillow to hold back a shuddering sob, his entire body trembling.  This is easily the worst pain he’s ever experienced in his life…and all because of stupid _Nick_ _Grimshaw_.

 

Louis bends himself nearly in half, holding still once he manages to find a position that relieves even the tiniest fraction of the pain.  Celebrating his small victory with a whispered _yes!_ that comes out as more of a whimper, he lays there for as long as he can stand, biting his lip to hold back the tears.  He only lasts about twenty minutes before he has to hobble to the loo, his bladder screaming at him.  Every step sends fresh pain shooting up his body and he has to hug the wall to keep from falling over.

 

Once he’s peed, he stumbles to the kitchen to fill yet another bag with ice.  Niall isn’t there to assist him, so he ends up attaching the thing to his leg with a roll of neon green duct tape he finds in the junk drawer.  He’s pretty sure it was a housewarming gift from Fizzy.  It’s never been opened, but if Louis’ life continues down this godforsaken path, he’ll probably need another roll by sundown.

 

He’s digging around in his cereal cabinet for a suitable breakfast when there’s a loud knock on his door, followed quickly by the doorbell.  Louis groans, leaning over to press his face into the counter.  There’s only one person he genuinely wants to see right now and that person is at home in Doncaster probably getting the babies ready for the day.  Anyone else is a complete nuisance.

 

When he doesn’t answer immediately, whoever’s on the other side of the door leans on the bell, making a metallic shriek echo through the house.  It drills through Louis’ head, adding to his pain in the worst way.  By the time he limps to the door, he’s livid. 

 

“What do you want?”  he snaps in greeting, his blood boiling.  Then his mouth drops open in shock, all the fight draining out of him until he feels weak enough to fall over.

 

Because there, standing in the middle of Louis’ porch, is Nick.

 

Louis’ first instinct is to slam the door in his face and pretend like he never saw him.  Nick would deserve it, after all, for the stunt he pulled at Harry’s party.  But something about the deep bags underneath Nick’s eyes and the icepack nestled in the crook of his elbow bids him pause.  Louis gets it, is the thing.  For the first time, he and Nick have something in common.  And it really, really sucks.

 

Louis invites him inside before he even realizes what he’s doing.

 

As soon as the door closes behind him, Nick looks Louis in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m going to chop my arm off.”

 

Despite his annoyance, Louis snorts a laugh.  “Only if you chop my leg off first,” he pleads, gesturing down at his ankle where the ice has all but melted.  He can feel the pain starting to flare up again, which is exactly what he’s come to expect from his miserable, rotten existence.

 

They look at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Louis sighs and shakes his head.  He’s never felt so out of his element in his life.  “I was about to eat breakfast,” he tells Nick, leaving him in the entryway to gather milk, a bowl, and his box of Lucky Charms.  “You can join me when you get tired of standing there like an idiot.”

 

Even as he says it, he’s certain that Nick will sit down with him.  They both know why he’s here and as much as Louis hates the thought of _joining with his soulmate_ , he grudgingly admits that it needs to be done.  He’s not sure how much longer he can live like this.

 

The chair scrapes across the tile as Nick settles down at the table.  “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten,” he says, folding his obnoxiously large hands in front of him.  They piss Louis off for some reason.  “Maybe tomorrow.”

 

That tells Louis all he needs to know.  Nick’s not planning on leaving until they sort this out.  He finds it both reassuring and terrifying.  “Listen,” Louis says as firmly as he can around a mouthful of colorful marshmallows.  “If we’re gonna do this, I’ve got three conditions.”

 

“Yeah?” Nick says, clearly surprised that Louis isn’t trying to kick him out of the house.  Louis is a little surprised too, but his ankle hurts and he can’t be his normal lovable self at the moment.  “Name ‘em.”

 

Louis holds up three fingers, counting them down one by one.  “One: your dog has to stay here, too…she might actually make this situation bearable.”  Nick rolls his eyes and it’s a blessed glimpse of normalcy in the midst of all this _weird_.  Strangely enough, it makes Louis feel a bit better.  “Two: You stay out of my room.  And three…”  Here he folds his arms darkly across his chest, feeling some of his former rage coming back.  “Three is don’t you _dare_ try to fucking kiss me ever again!”

 

At that, actual remorse shows on Nick’s face.  “I’m so, _so_ sorry about that,” he says, wincing at the memory.  Louis can relate…he’s been panicking about it ever since it happened.  “I don’t know what I was thinking…I promise it won’t happen again!”

 

“It better not,” Louis mutters into his cereal bowl.  Then his eyes squint up suspiciously.  “You’re being surprisingly mature about all of this.  What gives?”

 

“Charming,” Nick says dryly, rolling his eyes again.  Louis hopes they get stuck like that…it would serve him right.  “One of us has to be and it obviously isn’t going to be you, so I’ve decided to fill the role.”

 

The infinitesimal amount of comradery Louis was starting to feel for Nick disappears instantly at the comment.  “Right,” he huffs, short and exasperated.  “Glad you’re here then.”

 

Nick smirks at him.  “No, you’re not.”

 

Louis doesn’t even bother arguing.  At least he knows.

 

_-_-_-_

 

For the rest of the day they orbit around each other, keeping a wide radius between them.  Louis mostly keeps to his room, only stumbling out to get more ice or use the toilet.  Nick must run back to his flat at some point, because when Louis finally emerges to scrounge up some dinner, he finds Nick on the couch with ice on his arm and Pig in his lap.  Louis can’t help but break into a smile.

 

Resolutely ignoring Nick, he crouches in front of the sofa and reaches out to pet Pig on the head.  “Hi puppy!” he singsongs, giving her a scratch at the scruff of her neck.  “What’re you doing out here with this monster?”

 

Nick gives an offended gasp.  “Because she’s _my_ dog, Tomlinson!” he cries, wrapping Pig in a protective hug.  She nuzzles happily into his chest with a little whine.  “She loves me.”

 

Unimpressed, Louis waves him away with a dismissive flap of his hand.  “I was talking to Pig,” he retorts, letting her lick at his fingers.  “Besides, she’s gonna be my dog soon enough.”

 

That makes Nick huff out a laugh.  “Aww,” he coos, batting his eyelashes obnoxiously.  “Is this your way of asking me to marry you?  Might be a bit soon for that, don’t you think?”

 

Louis freezes, his hand stopping halfway through scratching behind Pig’s ears.  “No,” he splutters, his cheeks going pink.  He knows it’s only a joke but the thought of marrying Nick freaks him out, soulmate or not.  “I meant I’m going to steal her, you knob!” 

 

“Never going to happen,” Nick says firmly, kissing Pig on top of the head.  “She’s a good ol’ girl, aren’t you, Pig dog?”  His voice goes high and sweet and silly and it does something weird to Louis’ belly.

 

His face warm, Louis abruptly stands to his feet.  “I’m gonna go eat some cereal,” he bursts out, limping towards the kitchen as fast as he can.  It’s definitely not his best dramatic exit of all time, but it does the job.  He just needs to get away from Nick.

 

But Nick, true to form, will not be gotten away from.  “Didn’t you just have cereal this morning?” he calls after him.  “That’s terribly unhealthy!”

 

In answer, Louis just holds up his middle finger behind his back.  He’s a grown ass adult…he doesn’t need anyone – and especially not Nick fucking Grimshaw – judging his dietary choices.  He opens his mouth to tell him just that, but then he hears something that makes the words die on his lips and a smug grin spread across his face. 

 

Her tags jingling and her nails clicking against the hardwood floors, Pig follows him into the kitchen, leaving Nick sitting alone on the sofa.  “Told you,” Louis whispers to himself, dropping painfully to his knees to wrap the dog in an affectionate hug.  She yips a little and kisses his face.  “You’re mine now.”

 

Pig curled up at his feet, Louis eats three bowls of Coco Pops for dinner out of spite.  It feels like a victory – albeit a pointless one – and he’ll take what he can get at this point.

 

_-_-_-_

 

Louis doesn’t cross paths with Nick again until past dark when they both head to the freezer at the same time.  The icemaker is working overtime trying to spit out enough ice for their packs, whirring and sputtering until Louis is afraid it’s going to give up on them.  He pats it gently, silently begging it to hold on until they figure this out, though there’s no telling when that might be.

 

“It hasn’t stopped for you, either?”  Nick’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he stares dejectedly down at his marking.  The skin around it is permanently stained pink from the coldness of the ice – just like the bright red on Louis’ ankle – but it’s definitely preferable to the sharp, burning pain that comes without it.  “Like, it’s not just me, right?”

 

Louis sighs.  “It’s not just you.”  He tears off yet another piece of Fizzy’s neon duct tape, attaching the pack to his leg and mourning the loss of his leg hair.  He’s going to be completely bald by the time this is over.  “It’s not so sharp anymore, but it’s definitely still there.  The second the ice melts I wanna die again.”

 

“Me too.”  Then Nick takes a shaky breath and rubs his hand over his face.  “Maybe it just takes a while!” he suggests, shrugging helplessly and trying to force a smile.  It’d be amusing if Louis weren’t feeling just as scared and unsure as Nick is.  “Maybe it takes twenty-four hours or something.”

 

“Let’s just try to sleep,” Louis says wearily.  “I’m sure we’ll feel better in the morning.”

 

Except they _don’t_ feel better in the morning.  In fact, Louis is pretty sure he feels worse.  He spends a good five minutes crying into his pillow before he can drag himself out of bed, his bad leg buckling every time he tries to take a step.  By the time he finally reaches his destination, he’s exhausted and grumpy and sick to his stomach.  Weak from the pain, it takes him four tries to get his ankle wrapped correctly, but when the fresh ice finally hits his skin, he lets out a sigh of relief.  It takes the edge off almost instantly.

 

That taken care of, Louis fills another bag to take to Nick.  If his arm feels anything like Louis’ leg, he must be completely miserable…and Louis wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy let alone his soulmate.  Even though they seem to be one and the same more often than not.

 

Sure enough, Nick is curled up in one of the extra bedrooms, whimpering beneath the covers.  When he hears Louis open the door, the noise stops and Nick pushes himself to a sitting position, wiping discreetly at his face.  He’s clearly been crying, too.  Louis pretends not to notice.

 

“Brought you this,” he says, keeping his voice down at a whisper because the room is dim and Nick looks so small leaning against the headboard, his face crumbled in pain.  He holds the icepack out tentatively, approaching Nick’s bed.  “It’ll help.”

 

“Thanks, love,” Nick murmurs gratefully, taking the pack and arranging it in the crook of his elbow.  The relief that washes over him is palpable – Louis can read it on his face and feel it in the air.  “I didn’t know if I was ever going to be able to get out of bed.”

 

Hesitantly, Louis climbs up onto the bed, moving slowly and waiting for Nick to say something.  When he doesn’t, Louis determinedly ignores the burning of his cheeks to settle back against the wall next to Nick, propping his chin up with his fist.  “We’re fucked, aren’t we?” he asks flatly, not really expecting an answer.  “This is going to be our lives now.”

 

“There’s gotta be some way to fix it,” Nick disagrees, his tone just teetering on the edge of desperate.  Then he turns to Louis, his eyes big and hazel and worried.  “Right?” 

 

But Louis has seen all the articles and all the advice columns, same as Nick has.  The words Niall had read a few nights before ring in his ears, taunting him.  _Being apart from your soulmate – both in proximity and emotion – may cause discomfort_.  Louis shudders.  The solution is right there and it’s completely terrifying.  He’s afraid he might be sick all over the bed.

 

Louis thinks about the future, about crying every morning and living off of icepacks and duct tape and being too tired to leave the house, and it looks so bleak he finally decides to just say it.  “We could always fall in love,” he mumbles timidly, picking at his pajama pants.  He squeezes his eyes shut as soon as the words leave his mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Nick answers quietly, which is not at all what Louis expected.  He opens his eyes again, stunned.  Nick just smiles ruefully and offers him a shrug.  “I don’t think there’s much else we can do.”

 

“Okay,” Louis says, feeling overwhelmed.  He pulls the duvet up over his body, tucking it behind his shoulders like a cocoon.  Underneath the covers, he can feel the heat of Nick’s body next to his own.  It’s a lot to take in.  “Okay so…love.  Like real, actual love.”  The longer he thinks about it, the more panicked he gets.  He turns to Nick and fearfully exclaims, “How do people fall in love?”

 

Nick looks just as scared as he does.  “I don’t know!” he cries, following Louis’ example and pulling the blanket up until he’s covered most of his face.  “I’ve never done it!  Aren’t you supposed to be the resident love expert?”

 

And, yeah, Louis _is_ supposed to be the resident love expert.  He sucks at the air, trying to calm himself down.  “Right, okay,” he says, mostly to himself.  Nick peeks out from behind the duvet, waiting for his wisdom.  Any other time Louis would feel on top of the world, but right now he just really wants to fix this.  “I know that actually getting to know someone really helps.  Like beyond the casual stuff.  You’ve gotta figure out what makes the other person happy and then support them in it.”

 

Finally emerging from his hiding place, Nick nods thoughtfully.  “Doesn’t sound too hard,” he admits, though the slight tremble in his hands says otherwise.  Then he touches Louis lightly on the cheek, the only part of him not shrouded in duvet.  “What makes you happy, Louis?”

 

It’s said so gently and sincerely that Louis blushes, hoping the lighting is dim enough not to give him away.  “Right now it’s icepacks,” he answers, trying for a joke.  He gets a hushed, breathy laugh for his troubles.  Louis is prouder than he’d like to admit.

 

“Works for me,” Nick tells him, satisfied.  “We’ll work on the rest of it later.”

 

They sit together in the dark for a few minutes, each lost in their own swirling thoughts.  Louis’ panic starts to subside a little, though he can’t quite get his heart to stop pounding.  As if he understands, Nick slips an arm around his shoulders, giving him the tiniest squeeze.  Nick’s trying so hard to be careful and lovely and good, that much is obvious.  Louis really, really appreciates it, though he’d never be able to voice it.  Maybe someday. 

 

Because if Nick is trying to be good, Louis will try to be good, too.

 

_-_-_-_

 

“Get in the box.”

 

Nick looks from Louis to the goal and then back to Louis, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.  “You’re going to kick me in the face, aren’t you?” he asks, refusing to take even one step forward.

 

Louis laughs.  “Yes, exactly…that’s the plan!”  Then he puts his game face on, his smile disappearing instantly.  “Now shut up and get in the box.”

 

Grumbling under his breath, Nick arranges himself in front of the goal, looking out of place in his tiny cut-off jean shorts and neon trainers.  Clearly unsure what to do, he spreads his arms out wide like some kind of bequiffed bird, covering as much of the net as he can.  He looks ridiculous.

 

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Louis taunts from where he’s standing about twenty feet away, poised to take a shot.  He taps the football with his toe, antsy.  “How am I ever going to get past that?”

 

Nick rolls his eyes good-naturedly.  “Just kick the damn ball, Tomlinson.”

 

“Alright, but remember you asked for it!” Louis warns, backing away to get a running start.  It’s awkward trying to play with the bag of ice taped to his ankle, especially because it’s his dominant foot, but it feels so nice to finally get out to the back garden that he almost doesn’t mind.  “Heads up!” he calls, finally racing forward to boot the ball as hard as he can.  Nick doesn’t even bother moving, just watches with mild interest as the ball flies straight past his outstretched arm into the left corner of the net. 

 

“Awesome,” he says, clapping his hands together slowly.  “One whole point for Louis Tomlinson.”

 

For some reason, Louis can’t conjure up the annoyance the situation calls for.  Instead he finds himself laughing, throwing his hands in the air in mock exasperation.  “You didn’t even try!” he shouts, scrambling to retrieve the ball himself because there’s no way Nick’s going to do it.  “You could’ve at least waved an arm or something.  Kicked at the air a little.”

 

“Fine, fine.”  Nick moves a couple steps to the left, propping his hands on his knees and making a face that’s probably supposed to communicate intensity.  Mostly he just looks ridiculous.  “Let’s do another one.”

 

This time Louis kicks for the right, slamming it into the goal and breaking into giggles when Nick gives a half-hearted swipe with his hands, missing the ball by a good foot and a half.  “Two points!” he crows, raising a triumphant fist above his head.  “I’m winning!”

 

“You’re not even playing against anyone,” Nick reminds him, brushing nonexistent dirt off his shorts.  Louis just ignores him.  He doesn’t care who he is or isn’t playing as long as he’s beating them.  “I’m just warning you,” Nick goes on, tossing the ball back to Louis, “you’re not getting a third.”

 

 “Whatever you say,” Louis snorts at his outrageous bravado.  To prove his point, he kicks the ball with all his strength, not even bothering to take aim.  It sails through the air for a couple seconds before coming down to smack Nick solidly right between the legs.  He lets out a yelp and crumples to the ground.

 

Louis’ entire body flinches at the sight and he claps his hand over his mouth, giving a wordless, sympathetic gurgle.  “Shit, I’m so sorry!” he cries once he finds his voice again.  He races across the garden to where Nick is laying in a heap, then just stands over him awkwardly, not sure what to do.  “I didn’t mean to!”

 

“Fuck you,” Nick rasps, his eyes shut tight.  “Some kind of soulmate you are.”

 

“Look on the bright side,” Louis laughs nervously, wringing his hands.  “At least you blocked it!”

 

Nick barely manages a weak laugh at that.  “Cheers,” he mumbles, finally sitting up and cringing against the pain.  Louis guiltily grabs his hand and helps him get slowly to his feet.  Nick can hardly stand up straight and Louis feels so, so terrible about it.  “Tell me why we’re doing this, again?”

 

“Because footie makes me happy and you want to support me in it?” Louis answers, raising his voice at the end like a question.  It sounds a whole lot stupider than it did that morning in the darkness of the bedroom.

 

However, Nick doesn’t seem to think so.  “Ah yes,” he nods sagely, tapping his finger thoughtfully against his chin.  Louis rolls his eyes…Nick’s such an idiot.  “Falling in love and all that.  I remember now.”

 

Trying to hide the way Nick’s words make his stomach quake – and not necessarily in a good way – Louis casually tosses the football from hand to hand.  “We can do something else if you want,” he suggests.  “Something not so hazardous.”

 

“How about this,” Nick says slowly, as if he’s thinking really hard about something.  Louis waits expectantly, willing to try anything to make this falling in love thing easier.  “How about…you try and get your football back!”  With that, he wrenches Louis’ ball out of his hands and sprints away, screeching at the top of his lungs.

 

A surprised shout of laughter bursts from Louis’ mouth.  “You can’t use your hands, Grimshaw!” he cries as he chases after Nick, hobbling a bit as his hurt ankle slows him down.  “That’s a penalty!”

 

Once he reaches the back fence, there’s nowhere else Nick can go and Louis corners him, grabbing for the ball.  Instead of letting him have it, Nick just bounces it off Louis’ head and cackles at his dumbfounded expression.  “You’re not getting this back!” he says gleefully, spinning out of Louis’ grasp and racing back towards the house.  “It’s mine!”

 

Louis lets him go, shaking his head in amusement.  When Nick isn’t being a miserable twat, he’s actually kind of fun to be around.  The thought doesn’t bother Louis as much as it probably should.  “Fine,” he shouts at Nick’s retreating back.  “I guess Pig will just have to sleep in my room tonight!”

 

“She won’t do it!” Nick calls from the porch, letting himself inside with Louis’ football clutched protectively against his chest.  But that night Louis ends up curled beneath the duvet with Pig all the same.  And he doesn’t even say _I told you so_.

 

_-_-_-_

 

“I told you so.”  It’s the first thing that comes out of Louis’ mouth when Nick comes to wake him up at the crack of dawn, already dressed and ready for the day.  He pulls Pig closer to his chest, burying his face in her neck.  “Told you she’d sleep with me.”

 

“Well, would you look at that?” Nick exclaims from where he’s very carefully not stepping into Louis’ bedroom per condition number two.  “The beast doesn’t even have to be awake to insult people!  Truly remarkable.”

 

“Shut up,” Louis sighs out, his eyelids heavy and his body weak from sleep.  “Your job is stupid.  Who gets up this early?”

 

“Lots of people,” Nick shoots back.  Louis hums wordlessly, hoping it communicates how much he doesn’t care.  “Real adults.  Now are you coming or not?”

 

Knowing he can’t – and really shouldn’t – get out of this one, Louis forces himself to sit up.  “Yeah,” he yawns, stretching his arms heavenward and wincing when his joints pop.  “Give me five minutes to piss and brush my teeth and I’ll be good to go.”

 

“You have four,” Nick tells him, glancing at his watch.  “The car is going to be here any second now.”  As he turns to leave, he calls back over his shoulder, “And don’t forget to grab some ice while you’re at it.”

 

At his words, Louis finally registers the dull ache traveling up from his ankle.  It’s the first time in days he’s woken up without crying and the realization gives him enough energy to climb out of bed, shove his feet into the closest pair of shoes, and slide a headband into his unwashed hair.  His marking still burns a bit, but it’s nothing compared to before.  Whatever they’re doing is working.

 

On the car ride to the BBC headquarters, Louis can barely keep his eyes open.  After several attempts at conversation end abruptly when Louis accidentally nods off, Nick puts an arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him into his side.  “Just sleep, love,” he says softly, letting Louis lean heavily against him.  “We should be there in ten minutes.”

 

“Mmm, thanks,” Louis murmurs, barely conscious.  He feels Nick run a gentle hand down his arm, soothing him and making him shiver a little.  Comfortable and at ease, he falls back into sleep for the remaining minutes.  It feels really, really good.

 

Once they arrive at the Beeb, Louis slogs down the hallway a couple steps behind Nick, his hands shoved into his pockets and his stomach churning anxiously.  His exhaustion has taken a backseat to his nerves and he’s now wide awake and dreading the next three hours.  If he were a worse person than he is, he’d probably duck into a toilet and hide until the show is over.  But he promised Nick he’d do this…and breaking promises has never been a part of falling in love.

 

All the same, he hesitates outside 82A, too scared to walk in.  Nick picks up on his discomfort immediately.  “You alright, mate?” he asks, keeping his voice low and private.  He doesn’t move to push the door open.

 

“Yeah, I just…” Louis trails off with a sigh, feeling vulnerable and stupid.  He hates it so much he can feel his fight or flight instincts kicking in.  He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay rooted to the spot.  “I just---all your friends are in there!  Matt and Fiona and Ian?  They saw you kiss me last week and now I’m here following you around like an idiot.  It’s…”  He snaps his mouth shut, his face flaming red.  All his cards are out there and it makes him want to throw up.  Pulling a face, his voice drops to a shaky whisper as he finally admits, “It’s really embarrassing.”

 

Nick’s eyes go soft and sad.  Grabbing Louis’ arm, he drags him around the corner into an abandoned hallway where he wraps Louis in a tight hug.  “ _Fuck_ , Louis,” he says in a strangled tone, rubbing his hands up and down Louis’ back and pressing his cheek to the top of his head.  “I really am _so_ fucking sorry about that, you have no idea!  That’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done and if I could take it back I would.”

 

“It’s okay,” Louis mumbles, hiding his burning face in Nick’s shoulder.  His fists grip the back of Nick’s t-shirt.  “I’ll be alright.”

 

Nick pulls away.  “It’s really not okay,” he says sadly, shaking his head.  He reaches out to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes with careful fingers.  Louis leans into his hands, his stomach swooping.  “You know you don’t have to go in there, right?  It’s no big deal.  I can get someone to take you back home.”  His face is drawn with worry and regret.

 

Louis shakes his head.  “No, I’ll be alright,” he repeats, hoping it’s true.  “You got to see what makes me happy, now I want to do the same for you.”

 

“Falling in love, innit?” Nick’s smile is gentle and mournful and apologetic all at once. 

 

“Exactly.”

 

Then Nick’s hands are in his hair again and Louis closes his eyes at the sensation.  “I’m probably so late to work,” Nick breathes, laughing a little.  “But I just want you to know that you’re pretty great, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

At that, Louis feels a spark of energy zing through him.  He smiles crookedly.  “And you’re slightly above average,” he teases, grabbing Nick’s shoulders and turning him around to point him back toward 82A.  “Now get in there and wake up the nation!”

 

_-_-_-_

 

It’s awkward at first – especially considering they show up almost five minutes late – but soon enough the crew is too preoccupied with business and news stories and discussions of David Beckham’s new Instagram account to pay much attention to Louis.  He’s content just to sit back and watch them work, bantering back and forth and teasing Tina whenever it’s time for the news.  They make a great team and Louis is happy to get a front row seat.

 

There’s one moment when it seems like everything is going to come crashing down and Louis finds himself scooting to the edge of his chair, ready to bolt if need be.  “You all might be interested to know we’ve got a popstar in the studio this morning!” Matt tells the listeners, studying Louis with a quizzical look on his face.  “And this time it’s…”

 

“…Harry Styles!” Nick interrupts hastily, shooting Fincham a death glare.  The producer holds his hands up in self-defense, but thankfully keeps his mouth shut.  Louis’ stomach is tied in knots.  “But it turns out he was just looking for a toilet.  Are we a toilet, Fifi?”

 

“Can’t say that we are!”  Fiona grins at him, playing along.  She’s Louis’ favorite one.

 

“Well then I guess he’s on his way out,” Nick says, poking his lips out in a pout even though the cams aren’t on.  “Bye, Harold!”

 

Clearly a little unnerved, Nick keeps talking a mile a minute about anything he can think of that isn’t Louis.  It’d be hilarious if Louis didn’t feel so on-edge himself.  When the link is finally over and Little Mix’s new single is playing, Nick pushes his mic away and puts his head down on the desk.  “Don’t ever do that again, Finchy,” he says, his mouth smushed into the table.  “Or I swear I’ll kick you out of this studio and make Pig the new producer.”

 

Matt apologizes quickly, scooting away from Nick like he’s afraid of getting smacked, and the rest of the show goes off without a hitch.  Provided they leave the back way to avoid paps, no one will ever know Louis was there.  It comforts his racing heart and stills his shaking hands until he feels almost normal again.

 

After Fearne takes over and Louis and Nick get ready to leave, Ian wishes them whispered congratulations that make Louis blush hot.  “Thanks,” he mumbles awkwardly from where he’s pretending not to hide behind Nick.  Any hopes he had that Nick’s friends were too drunk to remember that awful kiss are well and truly dashed.  Louis practically yanks Nick’s arm off trying to escape the studio.

 

When they’ve ducked into the waiting car, Nick pulls Louis close to him again, tucking him under his arm.  “Sorry about Fincham,” he apologizes.  “He’s a good lad but he can be a bit oblivious at times.  He didn’t mean any harm.”

 

Louis just shrugs, calmer now that they’re alone.  “Don’t worry about it…it all ended up fine.”  He settles back against Nick, cautiously lacing their fingers together, just testing the waters.  When Nick doesn’t pull away, Louis breaks into a smile.  “But thanks for saving me.  That was big of you.”

 

“Hey, you know me,” Nick says grandly, laughing.  “Saving the world one pee joke at a time!”

 

Louis can’t help but snort a laugh at that, lifting their joined hands and kissing the back of Nick’s without even thinking about it.  As soon as his lips touch Nick’s skin, he freezes, unsure if he’s crossed a line.  The air in the car goes quiet and heavy and Louis’ grateful for the partition between them and the driver.  “Uh,” he sounds, his voice gone hoarse.  “Was that…?  Um.”

 

“That’s okay, Louis,” Nick whispers, his voice scratchy, too.  Then he’s pulling away and shifting his body so they’re facing each other in the back seat.  His cheeks are tinted pink and it makes Louis smile privately to himself.  It’s a good look on him.  “That’s more than okay.”

 

Satisfied and warm from the inside out, Louis takes Nick’s hand and does it again, this time lightly dragging his lips along his knuckles.  When he goes for a third, Nick catches him beneath the chin, chucking him gently so he’ll look up.  “How about…” he says softly, leaning in until their faces are mere inches apart.  For a second Louis thinks Nick is going to kiss him, but then Nick squeezes his eyes shut, pulling back.  “Sorry…I’m sorry,” he apologizes, running his hands up and down Louis’ arms, repentant.  “I said I wouldn’t.”

 

Louis absolutely melts.  “Come here, asshole,” he murmurs affectionately, grabbing Nick by the shoulders and pulling him down to meet him in a kiss.  Nick makes a noise of surprise but responds almost instantly, tangling his hands in Louis’ hair like he’s just been waiting for permission.  The thought makes Louis scramble into Nick’s lap, wanting to get closer.

 

They kiss for a few minutes, until their hair is messed up and their lips are numb and they’ve pulled into Louis’ neighborhood.  Wanting to savor the last few seconds, Louis curls up against Nick’s chest, nuzzling his face into his neck.  He has to pull away all too soon to climb out of the car, tugging Nick along behind him.  “Come on,” he goads, not letting go of Nick’s arm the entire way up the drive.  “We can make lunch and then you can spend it telling me how wonderful I am.”

 

“That shouldn’t take long!” Nick exclaims, his eyes flashing teasingly. 

 

Louis scoffs.  “Shut it,” he orders, pulling him into the house.  “You love me.”

 

Nick spins Louis around in the doorway, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.  “Getting there, sweetheart,” he admits.  “Definitely getting there.”

 

_-_-_-_

 

That night, Louis invites Nick into his bedroom, throwing away his own rule without a care.  After exchanging sleepy kisses, they fall asleep side by side, their limbs tangled up and Pig snoring at their feet.  They wake up much the same way, lazing about and kissing some more.  It takes Louis a good ten minutes before he realizes the pain in his ankle is completely gone.  Letting out a whoop that makes Nick cover his ears, he catapults himself out of bed, tossing his melted icepack into the bin and slamming it shut with an air of finality. 

 

“We did it!” he mutters in disbelief.  “We actually did it.”

 

“So why aren’t you kissing me then?” Nick asks from where his face is still half smashed into the pillow.  He looks rumpled and sleepy and beautiful.  Louis can’t keep the grin off his face. 

 

Flopping back onto the bed, Louis pulls Nick close and gives him the smallest of pecks.  “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I can manage it.”  Then he leans in and does just that.

 

_-_-_-_

 

It isn’t until a week later when Louis and Nick are walking Pig hand-in-hand that Louis finally works up the courage to ask him.  “You like me, right?” he questions, steadfastly looking ahead to avoid Nick’s eyes.  “Like, we’re good?”

 

Nick makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, dropping Louis’ hand just long enough to put an arm around him instead.  “Where’s this coming from?  Of course I do!”

 

Looking up at the sky, Louis decides to just bite the bullet.  “Then why did you start being shit to me?” he asks, embarrassed that he cares so much.  He’s tried so hard to forget about the times pre-soulmates, but for some reason he can’t shake them out of his head.  Every time he kisses Nick, they’re knocking at the back door of his brain and, quite frankly, he’s sick of it.  “We got along so well at first and then we just…didn’t.”

 

He feels Nick go stiff next to him.  Then his shoulders slump.  “Oh babe,” he says, his voice quiet as he moves to take Louis’ hand again, squeezing it warmly.  “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

 

“Me too,” Louis admits, turning to look at Nick for the first time.  His face is contrite.  It’s an expression Louis is getting used to seeing, though he can’t say he much likes it.  “But I can’t, so tell me why.”

 

Groaning, Nick covers his eyes with his other hand.  His mouth twists in distaste.  “Just a disclaimer…it’s a terrible reason and I’m a _very_ terrible person.”

 

Growing impatient, Louis huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.  “Yes?” he says expectantly.  If they weren’t being pulled along by Pig, he’d stop in the middle of the sidewalk just so he could tap his foot.  “Are you going to start telling me things I don’t know?”

 

“Alright, fine!”  Nick peeks out from between his fingers.  It’s cute even though Louis doesn’t want it to be.  “You know how we were both at the Brits in…I think it was 2012?”  He stops as if waiting for confirmation, but Louis just rolls his eyes instead.  Of course he remembers…it’s the fucking _Brits_.  “Well, when I ran into you guys at the after party, you had your stupid trousers rolled up and I saw your marking down on your ankle.”  He laughs incredulously, as if he still refuses to believe it after all these years.  “And I knew without a doubt that it matched mine and I just…I don’t know.  I freaked out.”

 

Pig gives a little yip of protest when Louis stops in his tracks, too stunned to move or to speak.  After a couple seconds of opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he finally bursts out, “You knew for _three years_?  And you didn’t even _tell me_?”

 

“I know…I—”

 

“No, no, hush!” Louis interrupts him, holding up a hand.  Nick snaps his mouth shut.  “So then what?  You just decided to make me hate you?” 

 

“I don’t know what was wrong with me!” Nick wails in the middle of the sidewalk, making passersby stare at him and quicken their steps.  Louis can’t blame them…he kind of wants to run away, too.  “It was just so scary to know who I was going to end up with that I just wanted to…chase you away.”

 

“Well you sure did a good job of that,” Louis snaps, remembering all the times Nick had called him a _complainy popstar_ on radio.  Even now it makes his blood boil.  “You’re such an idiot…I can’t believe I still want anything to do with you!”

 

That makes Nick perk up.  A shy smile pulling at his lips, he asks hesitantly, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes, “You really still want to be with me?”

 

The question brings everything back into perspective and Louis deflates, most of his anger draining out of him.  “Yeah,” he admits, linking his arm through Nick’s and pulling him along so Pig can get back to her walk.  She bounces on her little puppy legs, happy to be able to move again at long last.  “Whatever…it’s in the past.  We’re good now and that’s all that matters.”  He shakes his head, still in shock.  “You’re a damn knobhead, but we’re good.”

 

Nick kisses him on the temple in apology.  Despite it all, it makes Louis’ heart skip a beat and he presses his hand to the small of Nick’s back, just happy to feel the warmth of him through his t-shirt.  “So,” Nick says as they round the corner toward Pig’s favorite park.  “Are you in love with me yet?”

 

“No,” Louis answers without hesitation.  Then he pushes up onto his tiptoes to give Nick a smacking kiss on the cheek.  “But we’ve still got time.”


End file.
